Don't Try To Rush Things
by winter156
Summary: A very late New Year's fic


Don't Try To Rush Things

Warehouse 13

Pairing: Myka/Helena

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Not my characters.

Spoilers: None really (I'm sure everyone has seen the season 3 finale by now)

A/N: So, I wrote this December 31…but I had no internet access until a week after that. And, I didn't feel like posting it so late. But it's just sitting here on my hard drive doing nothing, so I thought I might as well share it. Thus, a super late New Year's fic.

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><p>The clouds had dispersed leaving a clear view of the few stars bright enough to penetrate the blanket of lights covering the city. Myka could see the sparkle of the night sky from the darkened back alley she had slipped into to avoid the excited crowds packing into Times Square. She took a moment to breath in the quickly cooling air of what had been a warm day for New York City in the middle of winter. She stared up at the night sky, seeing the grandness of the city and the all-encompassing darkness beyond that could not seem to touch it. The night just kissed the city on its outskirts, melding and blending until the sky was painted in a hue of manmade light that sparkled as brightly as any star in the heaven. Myka marveled at the beauty of it all.<p>

She found herself doing that a lot more often these days. She stopped to enjoy things; the little things that she had overlooked, or been too busy to appreciate, before Sykes endgame, now she stopped and took a moment to consider and marvel. It was not that she had been completely ignorant of the beauty around her everyday life, it was more that she did not value it as much as she did now. She took more risks now; tried not to be so uptight (as Pete liked to put it) about everything. Especially since the day she let Helena walk out of her life.

After the explosion, when the dust had settled, and their losses weighed, the team had been found wanting. For an interminable moment, while the outside world exploded, Myka's heart stuttered and imploded. She had felt splintered and hollow, like her chest had caved in and her heart was constricted in a vice grip. If she was honest, Myka still felt like that half the time. She was doing her best not to, but the weeks and months following the demise and subsequent recreation of the Warehouse had been difficult. She did not even care to give thought to how exactly Artie had saved everyone and everything.

It all happened so fast. Everything was gone; leveled to smoldering ruins of ash. And before it could completely sink into her conscious mind, it was all knitting back together, molecule by molecule. Defying the natural order of entropy and time. She had a sneaking suspicion Artie had been expecting something catastrophic because he did not hesitate to magically produce a solution to the devastation around them at the moment of the explosion. But, staunching her natural instincts to question the mechanics of how, Myka simply accepted the fact that everything was back to normal. She was just grateful for the fact that Helena was alive.

Until the moment everything went to Hell again. The second time was much quieter and more subtle than an explosion. And, it only devastated her world. Myka stood dumbfounded as Helena calmly told them that she was leaving the Warehouse only a few days after the world had been knit back together. Helena had looked at Myka with an indecipherable expression while she informed them of her decision to leave the Warehouse.

Myka had listened to everything as if she were far away and under water. She understood the words but could not make sense of what Helena was saying. All she knew is that she felt like she was behind a barrier again, with Helena on the other side: distant and unreachable. Myka wanted to stop her, to say something to keep her from leaving, anything to keep the woman near her. But the words were sticky and clung to her throat, refusing to be uttered. Her mind stopped as her heart stuttered, trapping any plea in her quickly constricting throat.

Shell shocked, Myka watched, heartbroken, as Helena walked away from the Warehouse, accompanied once again by Kosan. But this time, Helena went willingly and unshackled. The inventor walked away from the Warehouse, from Myka, of her own volition. And, despite Helena's explanation, Myka could not help feeling the same betrayal she had felt the first time Helena had walked away shackled and imprisoned for trying to level the world in vengeance of an irreparable hurt.

The buzzing of her Farnsworth brought Myka out of her morose thoughts. Shaking off the memory, Myka opened her Farnsworth and saw Pete's smiling face. "I got it, Mykes," she could hear his happy, relieved exhalation over the speaker. He wanted to get done with this preventive mission so he could enjoy the ringing of the New Year without work looming over his head. "It was some rebar from the left WTC tower," he held up his purple gloved hand, showing her a neatly excised piece of rebar, "that was incorporated into the memorial's façade." He wiggled the bar of metal in front of the screen. "I'm sure the memorial will be fine without this little piece."

"Are you sure that's it?" Myka asked, not wanting to have to work through the night either, but wanting to be sure they did not end up back in the Big Apple with a real artifact issue on their hands. "All Artie said was that the reports of the _fudge odor_ were distinct to the areas by the memorial and Times Square, but that only one possible artifact was in the city."

Pete shrugged moving to the rental that had spent the majority of the time the agents had been in the city parked. Opening the trunk, he rummaged for the appropriate object, bringing it to the edge of the trunk when he found the rectangular box. "Only one way to find out," Pete said preparing to dunk the bar into neutralizer. He gingerly dropped the metal into a vat of goo and turned away in anticipation of the mini purple explosion. All Myka saw was her screen momentarily glow purple. "Well, I guess that answers that question," Pete appeared back on the screen, smile firmly in place. "I'll find you when I get there," he said hurriedly, "after I grab some grub," he added before ending the transmission, already moving toward the subway entrance.

Closing the lid over the now black screen of the Farnsworth and putting it away, Myka walked back out into the throng of people crowding the streets of the city. "Good luck finding anyone in this crowd," Myka muttered before sighing in frustration as she was jostled seemingly from every side by overenthusiastic, and slightly drunk, people. Having had enough of being shoved around, Myka squeezed her way to the outer circles of the thick crowd that was moving to get closer to the location of the loud concerts going on all around and the center of the Square where the ball drop would occur.

Reaching a relatively sparse area, Myka breathed a sigh of relief at escaping the uncomfortable press of the crowd. Her reprieve was short lived, however, as a body solidly connected with her back, sending her stumbling forward. She managed to catch herself before falling but she could feel her patience snap. Barely registering the accented words of apology spoken over the hum of the crowd, Myka twirled around on her heel, ready to give somebody a piece of her mind.

Myka's upset was immediately forgotten and the air punched out of her lungs as her eyes landed on the perpetrator. The apology died on the other woman's lips as her shocked brown eyes met equally shocked (and somewhat pained) green eyes. The thousands of people pressed around them, creating an excited cacophony of sound that was increasing in volume as midnight approached, fell away. All Myka seemed to be able to hear was the rapid beating of her own heart.

"Fancy meeting you here," came the almost amused response from the dark haired woman, the shock of seeing Myka wearing off slightly.

"Small world," Myka managed to get out, still a bit out of sorts.

"Indeed," Helena replied, inserting her hands in her coat pockets and shrugging, her trademark smirk making an appearance as she openly observed the other woman.

Myka mirrored Helena's posture, physically holding herself back from closing the scant distance between them and doing what she really wanted to do. She wanted to wrap her arms around the other woman, breathe her in and just hold her to know she was not just dreaming this moment up. She wanted to tell her how she missed her every single day since she left. She wanted to kiss her and erase the last months…years… of aching loneliness. She wanted so much, but she was uncertain of what Helena wanted; not when the woman had walked out of her life when Myka thought they were heading somewhere. "Have you been following me?" Myka asked in lieu of uttering something she ought not.

"That is a chase I have long since given up," Helena muttered, her face taking on a sad smile as her eyes flashed with regret. Myka's heart clenched at the words, uncertain what exactly they meant at their current juncture. "But, I assure you," Helena continued, stepping closer to Myka to be heard over the crowd that was growing steadily louder, "this is a serendipitous meeting."

"Thank God for chance and coincidence, then," Myka expelled on a puff of white air, her green gaze holding Helena's brown orbs. Making a decision she should have made months before, Myka closed the final inches between them, her arms looping around Helena's torso between the space her arms made as the inventor still held her hands in her pockets. She bent her taller frame to place her head on Helena's shoulder. Myka held the inventor tightly, feeling Helena quickly relax after her initial shock at the unexpected contact. After a moment, Myka felt Helena's arms envelop her in return. And, suddenly, her tilted world righted itself. "I have missed you so much," the younger woman said softly against Helena's neck.

Distantly they heard the crowd exuberantly counting down the final seconds to the New Year. Feeling Helena shift, Myka lifted her head so she could be face to face with the older woman, but she did not release her hold. Helena held Myka's gaze; unspoken question in her eyes. The crowd boomed in one accord.

_10_

_Why now? _

_9_

Helena's hand came up to cup Myka's cheek.

_8_

_I wasn't ready before, but I can't lose you again._

_7_

Myka's eyes fluttered closed as Helena's thumb traced her lips.

_6_

_Are you certain this is what you want? _

_5_

Helena's gaze pierced Myka.

_4_

_Yes. _

_3_

Myka brought one hand up to cup Helena's cheek, the other she used to pull the inventor impossibly closer to her.

_2_

Myka dipped her head, but hesitated momentarily, meeting Helena's gaze once more. _Is this what you want?_

_1_

Helena slipped both hands into Myka's hair, pulling the younger woman the final distance to her lips. Melting into each other, the women missed the thousands upon thousands of people in the crowd cheering the birth of the New Year.

The need for oxygen separated them momentarily, giving Helena a moment to regard Myka through half lidded eyes as she raggedly pulled air into her lungs, "Perhaps, this year has great things in store for us."

Hand tracing a path down Helena's back and coming to rest on a shapely hip, Myka's pulse increased at the tremor that went through the inventor at the touch. "I, wholeheartedly, agree," smile beaming on her face, Myka pulled Helena back toward her lips.


End file.
